


Flow

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-03
Updated: 2007-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris fights for what is rightfully his. That what being Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flow

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a companion piece to "Touch". Can also be a stand-alone.

Sex with Steve is like everything else with Steve. Easy and slow and raw and real. From the first time he kissed Steve to the last time he fucked him there was a flow in each movement, a song complete with lyrics and melody. Chris finds this out whenever they’re together alone. In public he has to share because. Well, because Steve is just like that. For everyone. A look or two may pass his way, messages hidden beneath that sweet layer of goodness, but for the most part he gets to know the insides of the man only when they’re naked and he’s trying his best to strum Steve’s heartstrings through his dick as if he’s allowed to do so.

This is why it has been 6 months since the last time they screwed each other’s brains out. Steve is scared. Wouldn’t know it to look at him. The man screams stability. Hell, Chris is the one that should be running. He has from others who demanded what he demands from Steve. But he’s not. Instead he’s waiting for Steve to stop. Make it easier to hate him and walk away if the guy was running to some random girl’s arms once a week and twice on Sundays. He isn’t though. Steve can’t do that, can’t hurt someone like that, especially Chris. So he just runs until he can’t run anymore, comes back into Chris’s arms and stays as long as he can, then runs some more. And Chris understands why. What they have, the depth and width of it, is enough to turn a saint into a sinner. Yeah, Chris would love to hate him. If he didn’t hate to love him…

“Chris?” It’s 3am on a Friday night. Steve, Chris knows, just finished a gig in Palm Springs and is about ten minutes away from downing his last shot of Jack.

“Yeah?” he answers, sleep sour on his tongue.

“Been a while…” He takes a breath then hesitates. They talked earlier in the week and Steve is only on the first leg of the tour but he’s right. It has been a while.

“Yeah,” Chris repeats. He almost lets it slip that he misses him, that he wants him to come back, but catches himself in time. Last thing he needs is to scare him off when it was him who initiated the conversation. He waits patiently to see where it will go next.

“Shouldn’t be bothering you. Interrupted your sleep-.”

“Steve,” he growls. Bastard woke him up to say something. Better say it then…

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough, if I can keep it up..…I…I don’t like the road. It’s hard. And lonely……” He sighs softly.

Chris can’t disagree. True, he’s only done one tour with his band and it only lasted 3 months. Miserable as hell, though, when you’re used to home-cooked meals and seeing your friends who’ve become your family all the damn time and he’s also wandered a lot over the years. Town to town, house to house. He knows alright. He knows that he is finally settling down into his own life, and Steve is his home whether he likes it or not. That they are a permanent thing, the rule above all other rules. They were one of the original Ten Commandments, even before _Thou Shalt Not Kill_.

“…So come home, man…” He hadn’t meant to say it but it’s too late to take it back. Not once he hears a slight exhale. He can imagine the fear darkening his eyes, freezing his expression. He wonders if he’s crossed the line, realizes he doesn’t care anymore. He wants, no, needs Steve. And maybe Steve should know that so he can make an informed choice.

“…L.A. would be a breath of fresh air,” he chuckles, pretending it’s all he’s pining for.

Chris closes his eyes, blames what he’s about to say on lack of proper sleep and whispers just loud enough not to be denied, “Come home to me, Steve.” The chuckles die a painful death in his chest from the sound of it. “You want to, I want you to…Why lie about it, huh?” He inhales too deep, chokes, coughs. “Come home to me…Okay?” He finally spits out, his voice gravelly in its honesty. Steve isn’t the only one afraid. They both know this. But Steve acts like it anyway.

“Chris…What if…What if we can’t do this?...What if it doesn’t last? I don’t know if I could take that……”

He hears Steve down that last shot of Jack, hears the swallow and feels the burn as if his own fire is building. He hears him wipe his mouth, that sweet, smiling mouth, hears him think _What the hell do I do now? How do I survive this? _Because he’s thinking the same thing. Because he doesn’t know if he can last any longer being the one who waits and wants and hopes and dreams. He needs him too much to keep pretending with him. So he’s decided to go for it, go all in and put his cards on the table. The rest is up to Steve. Will Steve finally lay down his hand and take the house, or fold like nothing’s at stake? Bad part is Steve could go either way. And he wouldn’t blame him…Mother fucker!

“We’re already doing it. And maybe it doesn’t last. Can’t make any promises, Steve. You know that. But think about what I can give you. Think about that and then tell me you don’t wanna try…” Chris rubs at his eyes with his free hand, messing up the straight trail of tears silently tracking their way down his face.

“...You just…Goddamnit, Kane! You’re a dirty bastard, ya know!” Steve explodes. There’s nothing mean or angry in his tone. Just desperation and signs of resignation. “I hate you.” The last sentence is a murmur of surrender.

“So what else is new?” He holds his breath then releases it. “Finish the tour and come back home, okay, Steve? And tell me to my face how much you hate me. And then you can kiss me ‘til you love me again.” Steve gasps. “I’ll even let you fuck me into oblivion. But only if you come home. Not to L.A. Not to your house or your family. To me…” Once again he hears him thinking the same thing. This time it’s _Oh holy shit! I definitely won’t survive this!_ He doesn’t intend to, though. Does Steve? The tears dry up after that thought, although his stomach clenches into a double fist.

“……” He inhales shakily and tries again. “…Wait…So I get to be the one on top?” he asks softly, confidently. They’re on better footing now that they know how each other feels. Well, now that Chris has made Steve say out loud how he feels. “Inside you? For once?” Chris can feel the smirk through the wires.

“You always were, asshole.” But he smiles to cut the sting. “And, yeah, for once.”

“How come you never let me before?” It’s a valid question. One Chris is sure will be his undoing. He answers anyway.

“You never asked.” That Chris would do anything for Steve is a given so he doesn’t mention it.

“Oh…” Steve hums a second, speechless. “If I ask when I get home?” Not if. When. The distinction is obvious and it secretly fills Chris’s heart with joy.

“In front of a church or during the Macy’s Day Parade if you want,” he replies, completely serious. Chris tends not to say things he doesn’t mean.

“What about in private? Like in my bed?” It’s Chris’s turn to gasp now as he remembers how sexy Steve looked standing naked before him, his big, comfortable bed inches away and looking so tempting, his dick straining, literally reaching out for him as Chris prepared to fuck him with lusty abandon.

“Open invitation, Steve...”

“Then I’ll be back…Night, Chris.” Steve refrains from girlishly blowing a kiss into the phone. Barely.

“Night, Steve.” The following _I love you_ is another given that Chris doesn’t mention, but then, neither does he. Luckily they’re able to read between each other’s lines…


End file.
